King of the Balverines
by LunaMarr
Summary: White represents purity, but the Balverine represents evil. So which is it?
1. Connor's Roots

I was writing chapter 3 for my "Running with the Wolves" fanfic, (I have two other chapters done but they need editing). And the werewolves reminded me of the Balverines from the game series Fable, which In turn made me think of Connor, the white Balverine in Fable 3. So I've moved the quest line so it takes place before the Revolution and *Spoiler alert!* during the Crawlers attack. I also have decided for the sake of the story to change Connors appearance so he looks less like a random npc, and more appealing as well. He is now younger, so no white hair, his skin is smoother. I've subtracted his annoying facial hair and mutton chops (That is the only way I can describe it…) Made him taller and a bit more muscled (Seriously, this guy is a balverine, _what balverine would be that small_?! Even in human form. .) And his hair is no longer all slicked back, it's a bit more fitting.' Mainly because, I don't think that when you're living in the woods you have the time or resources to spend an hour in the mirror slicking and combing back all your hair. However if you prefer his original appearance, you can keep it that way. I just wanted him to be more appealing for the princess, (I don't think the Princess would go for his original look, considering where she lived her whole life. Ex. **Reaver,** Nobles, her father, etc. People who were well taken care of). And for me, because it's hard to write a story about a guy that's a "bit" of a jerk, and looks all intimidating. (Really, he wanted to kill the whole village! D: He risked their lives, so it is understandable why they exiled him, but he decided to go furry and kill everyone. Yeeeaah). Oh, and I will be taking many writers liberties while writing this little story, just a warning. Quests, conversations, etc.

Oh! And one more thing~! Muriel is pretty creepy in this one, Mostly because I feel like all the noblemen/woman are creepy in fable…and two to reinforce that fact he is younger and handsomer.

I don't own anything, Hooray! :D End rant.

~O~

It was an odd feeling, breathing. The air was dense, yet unscented. But this could be expected when standing so close to the silver-nitrate torches. The silver evaporated into the air, odorless but undoubtedly recognizable. They were the only thing keeping the Balverines at bay. Connor blinked his eyes, exhausted and weary as he fought to keep off the sleep that was persistedly gnawing at his sore limbs. His eyes strained to see into the impenetrable darkness, eyes ever searching for the glowing red of a balverine's. Arms stiff from holding his rifle at the ready for hours, and from plowing the rocky soil from earlier that day, were numb with bitter cold and muscle discomfort, only adding to his overall fatigue. He shook his head slightly, in vain hope it might shake off the blurriness seeping into his vision. His body was being pushed to the limit. He paused in his patrol, leaning against the wooden 'gate' that informed any visitor they had reached the outskirts of the small town of Silverpines. He moaned aloud and somewhere in the black woods a wolf returned the call. His body, finally sick of fighting his mind for control, forced his willpower into a corner and his eyelids drooped, covering pine needle green eyes.

…

"**You were supposed to be on duty! How dare you risk the safety of our town! Of our children!" **Jacob screamed, spittle spraying from his lips with each syllable.

Connor openly flinched, drawing away from the man who was growing dangerously red in the face. He had only fallen asleep for a few minutes, but it was enough. One of the lamps had gone out.

For most lamps, going out was little problem and the common remedy was to simply relight it. However, silver-nitrate could only to burn when it was _hot._ If the lamps went out and cooled, it would take hours to heat them enough for the silver to burn again, and the town would be vulnerable to attack during each painstakingly long minute that the villagers waited for the torch to be re-lit. Luckily one of the other men on patrol, an older grouchy man by the name of Jacob had come across him and the lamp, and was quick to relight it before dragging a shocked Connor to center square. Rain had begun to drizzle lightly, however this did not distract Jacob or any of the fuming villagers.

"**Punishment!"**

"**Put em' to death!"**

"**Exile!" **

The villagers chanted, circling Connor. He backed away, slipping on the sodden ground and falling on his arse in six inches of mud.

"Please…it was an accident! I swear!" He begged, his heart accelerating as the townspeople closed in. Jacob cocked his head, and smiled masochistically.

"An accident eh? Well then…I suppose if it was just an accident it would be cruel to kill you…Very well Connor you be spared." Connor released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, sighing in relief. The villagers gasped, their faces twisting into vile expressions of anger as the turned on the man. Cries of protest began to fill the air, however he raised his rifle and fired it once, and all was silent. He kneeled down into the mud, "You will be spared. However from this day forth…you are _exiled."_ He whispered fiercely. Connor gasped, but his mouth barely had time to open for several village men had grabbed him by the collar and arms and were now dragging him to the gate. He yelped, and clutching his rifle to his chest struggled passionately. One of the villagers caught sight of the gun and was quick to point it out.

"Take his gun to-! Ain't no way in 'ell is he gonna survive them balverines without it!" Several villagers latched on to his rifle and pryed it from his grasp.

"A reckoning is coming, for you all!" Connor threatened, his words coming out as more of a growl. Jacob scoffed, dark amusement flooding his eyes.

The villagers began chanting, counting all the nauseating ways he was going to die. As they reached the end of the gate Jacob ordered the men to carry him past the nitrate lamps and return so they could shut the gates. He would be unable to return. Their grips tightened and Connor fought back a whimper as they dragged him past the fiery lamps that represented his protection, and with little effort they swung him into foliage. As he struggled to climb from the thick vinery he was aware of the sound of the wooden gates closing shut. He pulled himself loose, and for a second considered returning to the closed gates, beating on them until they opened and begging for his chance to live among them again. For a second. He rid his head of the thought irritably, **no**. His pride would not allow him to drop that low, and he wanted revenge on the people he had thought of as family. Anger burned in him like a torch, unyielding to his memories from childhood, and the kindness he had been afforded. It had always been this way, he realized. They had always seen him as an outsider, a freak. Their kindness and their naive acceptance of him had all been a façade, a sick lie. He walked in the opposite direction of the village, fury smoldering in his heart while hoping he might stumble upon a rabbit or squirrel. But even as he did so he knew that was unlikely…whatever wasn't eaten by the over populated wolves were killed by the voracious Balverines.

~O~

It had been four days since he had been forced from the village, and Connor was already going insane. He had stayed alive thus far by eating berries and roots, but his stomach was begging for something more filling. He would wake up in the night from the pangs of hunger, and could see little red eyes watching him…hundreds of them. He would blink rapidly and peer into the darkness again; only to see the little orbs had vanished. On the sixth day, the voices began. They were thick, raspy, and most certainly male.

"_Perfect…he would be perfect…"_

"_Yes…keep this one…"_

"_Finally…our alpha returns…"_

He growled in frustration, clamping his hands over his ears as he tried to sleep.

"_Yes…he is the one. No mere human can hear us the way he can…"_

On the tenth day Connor was sure he was going to die. No man had ever made it this long in the woods without a balverine attack, this he was certain of, and now he was positive his time was coming. He sat tiredly around a small fire he had made, dark bags under his eyes making it all the more obvious that he had not been sleeping well. He had always had a high constitution, but winter was coming, and if he did not find some sort of shelter he would not survive. He shivered, pulling his holy jacket tighter about himself. Night had long fallen and he drew closer to the fire. Taking a stick he had sharpened so it now resembled a spear, he prodded the fire quickly, rewarded with a fresh onslaught of heat the end only slightly blackened. As the forest grew quiet, or as quiet as it could get in Silverpines, Connor tensed more so, a headache forming from straining his ears. He gripped his makeshift spear tighter; he could hear the twigs snapping to his right. Slowly, and without looking directly to where the disturbance came from; he rose, his hands holding the spear at the ready. The foliage separated and the body of a wolf dangled through, its neck bloody and angled at an odd direction. A sound came from behind him, and before he could turn, a claw swiped the spear from his grasp and range, a balverine stepping from the flora and fauna. It stood at least two heads over him, and he held still as possible as other Balverines stepped into the clearing. In the dim light he could barely make out the color of their fur, mostly black but with several brown, rusty colored ones. His childhood in Silverpines had made him well acquainted with balverine folklore, and he knew that the rusty colored ones were the more dangerous of the two, the ones that could walk as humans by day. He straightened his back and eyed the circle that was growing around him, and turned to the foliage where the wolf still dangled. Slowly, a brown balverine stepped from the foliage and approached in a way that it appeared almost…respectful. When it was a yard away, it dropped the body, and nudged the wolf with a bloody muzzle until it was resting at Connors feet. It bowed its head, and the others followed suite, and though its mouth did not move Connor could hear its raspy voice emanating in the glade.

"_Alpha…please accept this gift in exchange for your leadership…"_ It rasped. Connor stood a bit straighter, eyes narrowed.

"I am no balverine." he growled and the Balverines tensed, flinching like a child that had been caught doing something naughty.

"_You can hear us…can you not? Only the alpha…the White One can do so while still in human form. You are meant to be our king, The White Balverine." _It answered.

Connor smiled, enjoying the power he seemed to have over them.

"And how am I to become the White Balverine? The last was killed by the Great Hero King, Sparrow."

The balverine raised its head, and game a wicked smile, several rows of teeth showing.

"_In Millfields…There is a statue held by a woman in a pink house, It was created in the likeness of the Balvorn…It will grant you leadership, alpha." _

"Very well, I accept your gift…and I will head to Millfields." Connor smiled, and the Balverines seemed to relax, and bowing their heads, the creatures jumped into the air out of sight. Smiling to himself, Connor received his spear and prepared to skin the wolf, prospects of his upcoming future burning in his mind.. He would need his strength if he was going to Millfields.

~O~

The Balverines had quite literally left a trail of blood to follow, and after several hours Connor found himself at the edge of the woods overlooking BowerLake.

_I could stay here…work for one of the noblemen, raise a family…_he mused silently. He cut the thought short however when he noticed a body haphazardly shoved underneath a bush. Pulling the nobleman from underneath the bush, he was surprised to see that the body was in almost perfect condition including the clothes, save that the throat had been ripped out. Shaking off the pity he felt for the man, he understood and pulled the clothes off, replacing them with his own. It would look suspicious to see a man in his measly clothing walking around, and if, no when, the guards found the body, they would report that it was probably some oaf from Silverpines that wondered to far from the village. As long as no one from Silverpines came to check the body (and the same for the people of Millfields) then he would be in the clear, marked dead. Walking down to the water's edge, he placed the clothes carefully on a rock and waded in, dirt and blood washing of into the water. No nobleman would be so dirty, and if he was going to blend in he would have to do it properly. Once he felt he was quite clean, he stepped out and dried off, pulling on the clothes as he did so. They were black, most appropriate since he was about to become a thief, and soft, the man that had owned them was certainly very rich. In his right breast pocket he found a small comb which he set aside, and in the inside pocket 700 gold. Using the water as a mirror he used the comb to tame his thick unruly locks, and after several attempts managed to tie the now completely red cravat properly. Looking himself over, he dusted off several blades of grass and some dirt and walked up onto the road, spotting a lone pink house with a pearly fountain in the front. Several guards were patrolling in the front of the house, if he could climb out the back door or a window maybe he could escape into the woods, statue in hand. Nodding to the guards that were traversing the road, he paused in front of the house, trying to think of a lie that would let the woman agree to allow him into her home. A clash of thunder broke him from his thoughts and he grinned, an idea come to him.

"Okay…remember…You're a suave, rich nobleman." He whispered to himself, a gloved hand knocking against the ostentatiously pink door. He heard a squeal of surprise, and the sound of dishes breaking.

"Wretched girl-! Clean that up! I'll get the door…"

The door was opened angrily and Connor allowed himself to raise an eyebrow at the woman's behavior.

"Who do you think you ar-!" she stopped, and her eyes took in his extravagant appearance and she flushed, a pink gloved hand smoothing the curls of her powdered wig. "Pardon me sir…my servant girl just made a horrible mess of things. Can I get you something?" she smiled flirtatiously, batting her eyelashes. Ignoring the double meaning, Connor gave her a charming smile and as elegantly as he could broke into his story.

"Why yes, you see I was enjoying my usual evening stroll when I looked up and realized it was going to rain! My house is quite far from here and I do not believe I would make it home before the storm hits…Would you mind horribly if I took shelter in your home until the storm has passed?" As if on cue, there was a bolt of lightning and a light drizzle began to fall from the sky. She smiled coquettishly, opening the door wider so he could step in.

"Of course Sir…! Abby! Fix me and this lovely gentleman some tea." She ordered, and a young servant girl glanced up from the ground, picking pieces of a plate she had been washing from the ground. Her eyes glanced between her mistress and Connor and a warm flush rose to her cheeks.

"Of Course, Mistress." She replied, her lips turning up in a small smile.

Connor felt his neck heat a little, _Perhaps I did better with the disguise that I thought…_

The woman sat down, and motioned for him to do the same. He sat, and let his eyes wander about, and he spotted the white statue sitting in a place of honor on a mahogany hutch.

"I say…what a fine house you have here Miss…"

"Muriel. And yours?" She purred.

"Richard" He stated automatically. He reached his hand across the table . "Muriel. What a beautiful name." She giggled girlishly, a trait he found, in her case at least, **most** annoying. Abby, or so the servant was called, took that moment to place to cups of tea on the table, her eyes darting to his face as she placed them in front of the two.

"Abby you are dismissed." Muriel stated without even throwing the girl a glance. Her shoulders slumped in disappointment and she went to her quarters, throwing him a shy smile before she shut the door. Connor, unused to females' attention refrained from blushing and focused his attention on the task at hand.

Taking a sip from the tea, he continued; "Tell me, of what significance is that statue over there? It looks very interesting…" Her eyes flashed and taking a dainty sip of her tea she smiled.

"It's a statue depicting "The White One" from what I understand…It has been in the family for generations and is worth at least half a million gold. She stated eagerly, her eyes dancing greedily. "But of course, I'm sure you could afford that." She continued eyeing his profligate clothing. She giggled again, and he forced himself to give a refined chuckle. Her eyes looked him over, as if appraising him. Connor fought the urge to turn and leave, the cravat feeling far too tight around his neck. Taking a sip of his tea he looked up through his lashes only to see that she was doing the same. Something flashed again in hers eyes, something Connor did not like.

"Perhaps you would like to join me _upstairs_ Sir Richard." She said, batting her eyelashes. Never before had the urge to run away sounded so appealing to Connor. He forced his stomach to calm down and instead offered her a smile he hoped looked more charming and less like a grimace.

"That sounds lovely." He stated, keeping his eyes locked on hers and ignoring the urge to look everywhere but.

"Good." She stood from her chair and pulled him up by his cravat, so their faces were only a few inches apart. "Give me a few moments to change into something…more comfortable." She pulled the cravat with the last word and it fell loose, Ruining the ten minutes Connor had spent trying to tie the bloody thing. She hurried upstairs, and winked at him before disappearing over the edge. Connor wasted no-time in snatching the statue and hurrying out the back door, his heart pattering so fast in his chest he could hardly think.

~O~

I'm not the only one that gets weirded out when the Nobleman/woman proposition you "for a little fun" right? *Shudder* (Not to mention the age difference is appalling) and the fact that in Fable 3 their hanging out with **Reaver** doesn't help either… ;ಠ_ಠ No doubt there are some grammar/spelling mistakes -_-;;


	2. I see dead people

I'm really glad the last chapter is over with…I had to keep stopping because Muriel was creeeeppin'

_;;

Whoo! Moving on!

~O~

The Balverines were waiting, in eager apprehension for the return of their master. So Connor ran, the blood appearing as an eerie scarlet in the moonlight against the forest floor. He ran, not thinking about the consequences, only the sweet, delicious revenge he would have when he ruled the Balverines. It was such an odd, new emotion this desire for vengeance. Never before had such yearning for something filled him so, and underneath the adrenaline and the confidence this worried him. But his new _hunger_ drowned out the voice of reason. And so, he ran. And they waited, for the master they had known would come. For the leader the blind one spoke of. He came. And the Master they had waited decades for, had arrived at last.

…

Two weeks later.

~O~

**"DARN YOU SABINE." **Robyn growled, wrenching her sword from yet another hollow man's chest. She turned on the spot, decapitating a hollow man that was seconds away from slicing her in half. Knight leapt into the air and sank his teeth into the last hollow man, and the body crumbled. Robyn shook out her arm, the weight of the sword turning her arm to jelly. Knight barked in understanding and she switched arms, carrying the blade in her left hand instead. The air was cool and thick, and the musty smell of decomposing hollow man filled the air. She climbed the steps carefully the heels of her shoes scuffing against the stone steps, blade and pistol at the ready. Little to her surprise more wisps glided down, and gracefully ripped a skeletal body from the ground. She backed up, the small of her back resting against the parapet, firing a torrent of bullets to save her sore arm some pain. The more she destroyed them, the more bodies were wrenched up, even larger than before and some wearing armor. She sheathed he blade and tucked her pistol in its strap, charging up her gauntlets and unleashing a wave of fire. The bones disintegrated, and the wisps were left disappointed, floating about her teasingly before floating off. She huffed, tendrils of hair falling into her eyes. Knight ran ahead, and she followed wearily, not so eager to see the next wave of enemies.

"I swear…If we don't find father's treasure I'm going to strangle that man." She snarled, her feet aching in her heels. Over the next hour the two managed to cut a hole through the undead, until finally the wisps gave up with their game and instead swished cheerfully above them, unknowing or uncaring of their discomfort. The air grew colder the deeper they into the libraries reliquary, and Robyn found herself rubbing her arms, trying to pull feeling back into the tired limbs. Knight barked suddenly, running ahead eagerly, ears perked up.

"Knight! What is it boy?" she called, running anxiously as she fought to catch up with her faithful friend. She stopped swiftly however, listening as she too heard the soft twinkle of music being played. She hummed along softly, the whimsical melody pulling her back into sweet memories of her childhood. Nights spent in her father's arms as he rocked her. The sound of the piano as her mother's delicate fingers danced across the keys. The song that was played at both her mothers and fathers funeral. Unknowingly, her eyes watered, a tear escaping from her lashes and sliding down her cheek, leaving a chilled trail against her warm cheek. She started, her hand going to her cheek in shock and she swept the tear away, glaring to herself for this sudden display of weakness. She followed Knight with renewed vigor, her face hardening after the onslaught of mocking memories. She turned a corner, and was suddenly in open cavern, a ray of light that escaped into the room from somewhere above lighting it, the stone walls around her set with mica and reflecting the light, giving the appearance of stars against a pitch black sky. She released a breath of air she had not realized she had been holding and sighed in contentment, admiring the beauty of the underground cave. A bark interrupted her thoughts however, and she laughed, scratching the back of Knight's ears.

"Good boy!" she cooed, patting him once more before looking up to the source of the music. A unseeming little music box, coated in silver and inlaid with delicate patterns sat in the middle of the room, a small key on the side turning as the music continued to play, and she approached cautiously, both weary and entranced. She reached out gently, as if it would melt if she touched it, and laid her hand against the lid.

"This better not be some kind of trap." She whispered, and in on swift movement clamped the lid shut and yanked the box from the small pedestal. She waited in anticipation, waiting for some kind of monster to emerge from the darkness or for the room to start shaking.

"Huh. Well I guess there was nothing for us to worry about eh boy?" she laughed giddily, and turned to face knight only to find him still as stone. "…boy?" she questioned. "Knight!" she shouted, waving her hand in front of his face. He remained unnaturally still, not a single hair on his body moved. Before she fully realized what was happening, she felt a tug on her middle, as if her very heart was trying to leap from her chest. The Guild seal, tied about her neck with a small golden chain, began to glow, until it was a blinding white. "Oh Avo No-!" she yelped, clutching the music box to her chest as she was suddenly transported away, to a small strip of land in the middle of an ocean. Already familiar with the landscape, she frowned, pulling her eyes away from the misty castle in the distance and turned to the blind seeress in front of her. To her surprise, two misty shapes formed in the fog, until a perfect Walter and Jasper stood in front of her. Theresa smiled enigmatically, one of those smiles that make you think the person knows something you don't. It was also the same smile that put Robyn on the edge. Robyn smiled and hoped it hid the scowl that was creeping into her face, and greeted her as friendlily as one possibly could in this situation.

"_Congratulations __**Hero. **__Touching the Guild seal was an indication of what you could become. Reaching the music box proved what you already are. No one but a hero could have done it. You have begun to learn what powers you possess, and there is still greater potential within you…But you have only taken the first step on your journey. Albion is crying out for a revolution, and for someone to lead it. Winning supporters to your cause will be…hard. Leading them against Logan will be an even greater challenge. But it is one you must accomplish._ Memories of Elliot bubbled up into her mind, and the day she lost her best friend. Gritting her teeth she recoiled.

"I'll make him pay for what he did." She growled, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the silver token.

Theresa smiled darkly in response to Robyn's sudden expression of emotion.

_"This is not a matter of personal vengeance. As long as your brother sits on the thrown, Albion is in great danger. Open the music box"_ she commanded.

"_It will show you the truth."_

Robyn said nothing, instead casting her gaze downward at the tiny box she cradled in her hands. She turned the key gently, winding up the mechanism. It opened slowly, and music poured out of the contraption, and a bright light blinded Robyn's eyes.

Quite suddenly, she felt herself in a warmer, darker place. Everything appeared black for a moment, and her eyes slowly adjusted to the sudden darkness, and she realized with much surprise that she was in her brother's map room at Bowerstone Castle. She spotted him, approaching the map table. His hair was oily and slicked back as per usual, and dark bruises covered his eyes. He had not been sleeping well.

"Logan?" her voice came out raspy, but he made no indication of having heard her.

"_This is my Albion. Its cities will bow to my law, or they will burn. Its mountains will bend to my will, or they will fall. This is my Albion."_ He whispered darkly. Robyn felt her stomach clench.

"_Its people will do as I say, or they will __**die.**__ Its future will be as I decree or it will__** end.**_

_I've seen what must be done, and __**nothing will stand in my way!**__ We __**WILL **__be greater, and we __**WILL**__ be stronger. No matter what sacrifices we must make. This is my Albion._

_And I will see it destroyed before I surrender it."_

She was brought back, just as suddenly as before, and Theresa was quick to fill her ears.

"_If any part of you still doubted the necessity of a revolution, you have your answer." _she stated calmly, apathetic to the torn expression on Robyn's face. _"The kingdom will face annihilation under your brother's rule…Now, do whatever you must to obtain your first ally; for you cannot lead a rebellion without followers and Sabine is a good man, and his people are strong." _ She smiled cheerfully, and with a curt nod evanesced into the mist.

Robyn braced herself as a familiar tug formed in her middle and she was transported away. Shaking off the feeling that she was going to be sick Robyn turned with the music box in hand, and Knight yipped happily, noticing nothing amiss. She smiled at him halfheartedly, and slipping the box into her skirt pocket she grabbed hold of his collar, a small leather strap with a guild seal embedded into the leather, and closed her eyes. Concentrating, she felt a sudden feeling of weightlessness before she was teleported to the library above.

…

Samuel stood in the greeting room, shuffling old library cards out of habit. There was no point really, but he shuffled his cards the same way a gambler would shuffle a deck, waiting for the next challenger to come along. He glanced up at the clock, and through the cobwebs he made out the time.

"Hmmm…" he hummed softly. The Princess has been in the reliquary for quite some time…perhaps I should go check on her just to make su-"

He uttered a rather unmanly shriek as she appeared in front of him, her dog Knight in tow. His fingers darted across the counter as he gathered the cards back together, before stowing them in his breast pocket. "Blasted Index cards…"he muttered out of embarrassment.

She chuckled, handing him several cards from off the floor.

"Ahhh yes thank you…So you made it! This is cause for great rejoicing indeed! Albion has a hero again!" he announced, realizing the meaning behind his words. He smiled wildly, his eyes sparkling with excitement. She returned the smile, her vivid blue eyes full of unexpected life. "If there is anything, anything I can do…I would be **honored** to serve you!" he exclaimed, shaking her hand jovially. She laughed, returning the gesture and smiled.

"Thank you Samuel, I just might take you up on that!" she announced, taking leave for the door.

He smiled thoughtfully, waiting until she was long gone before his whisper escaped his lips. "Just like her father that one…"

~O~

"Are you certain he said the Tavern Jasper?" Robyn asked annoyed.

"Yes, yes of course!" he responded watching wearily as she looked over her gauntlets. Sometimes he wondered how they all seemed to fit her perfectly, despite the fact they had been her fathers, she assumed they were enchanted in some way to fit the wearer. There were six in all, each one engraved with ornate designs that hinted at what they did. She plucked a pair off the mannequin hands, and looked them over. They were inlaid with silver, and the design wrapped about the dark leather in sharp, thorn like patterns. In the palm, like the rest of the gauntlets was inlaid a large gemstone, the only difference was that this was a great sapphire, bigger than her eye and just as blue. She pulled off her fire gauntlets and pulled the pair on, eager to see what they would do. Jasper raised an eyebrow and took an unnoticed step back, holding her fire gauntlets out as she tested the new pair. She held out her hands, and concentrating on the flow of will through her veins, she unleashed it through the gauntlet, resulting in a torrent of sparks and electricity. Both jumped, and several sparks fell to the carpeted ground below and it promptly proceeded to catch fire. Jasper was quick to put them out, squelching the flames before they had the chance to burn down her father's sanctuary. "Perhaps," he coughed, both gagging as the atrocious odor that rose from the century old scorched carpet. "You should increase you knowledge of will before you try any of the others, my dear." He stated softly, careful of her feelings. She frowned, pouting as she pulled off the gauntlets and replaced them on the mannequin.

"Father did not need the gauntlets to use gauntlets to use his powers…Not at my age." She stated softly, embarrassed by her lack of progress in will. Jasper smiled understandingly, handing her back the gauntlets.

"Your father also trained at it longer than you have, it takes time and practice my dear, that's all." He stated soothingly, rubbing her shoulder for comfort.

"You're right." She said, and with a flash of light both her and Knight disappeared from the sanctuary. With her gone Jasper pulled a cloth from his pocket and began polishing and dusting the gauntlets, worried for Robyn and whatever new quest Walter had in store for her.

~O~

She spotted Walter easily; the older man was slumped against the outside wall of the tavern, his oversized mug hanging loosely in his hand. She approached him, holding her breathe in an effort not to laugh. Despite being against the wall, his head had lolled forward and a mixture of drool and ale was dried in his groomed goatee. His eyelids fluttered and she could see his eyes underneath moving rapidly. He muttered something unintelligible and rolled over, one hand scratching his back. "Walter? He murmured something, and some mead spilled from his mug. "Walter!" she half-shouted half-laughed. His eyes fluttered open, darting around. He yawned, and Robyn groaned as his breathe hit her nose.

"Mary, Mary is that you?" he grumbled, pulling himself from the ground.

"My goodness, Walter! What **have** you been doing?" she squealed, fanning her nose. He shook his head, and coming to his senses his ears turned a bright pink.

"OH! Oh balls…erm…Robyn your back!" he laughed, his large belly shaking slightly. He scratched the back of his head while the other hand secured his mug to his belt. "I didn't think you'd be…I mean…well! You were successful then I take it? You'll be glad to know I have some information on the mercenaries Sabine mentioned…Their lead by a man named Saker. Used to be a soldier…Humph. Always had more in common with bandits and cut-throats than with the military though. His men are holed up in a small fortress in the mountains…so…It won't be easy to get in." he scoffed, stroking his chin in thought.

"Then how are we supposed to get in?" She asked under her breath.

He smiled his-I-know-something-you-don't-know smile, and leaned in, his eyes sparkling impishly. "Now that right there is the fun part! Come with me." He gestured to her and walked to the back of the building, disappearing up a flight of steps.

"Stay here, boy." She commanded Knight, before following Walter up the stairs. Reaching the top she shut the door behind her, and found herself on a small, heated balcony.

"This is one of the mercenaries." She turned her eyes to the table Walter leaned on now, littered with empty bottles and mugs. Coming closer she saw a man strewn across the table, his clothes covered in Avo-knows-what, and multiple rips and blood stains covered his jacket and pants. She was so absorbed in the foul smell and tattoos that she hardly noticed Walter was speaking until he smacked the man on the back of the head. "…Cold blooded killer, he's name is Clarence…but everyone calls 'em_** Jimmy.**_" He whispered the last bit, and Robyn vaguely wondered if the name was supposed to ring a bell. He frowned at her clear lack of fear, but continued; "He was drinking in the pub all day, generally making life unpleasant for everyone…was fairly easy to get him completely pickled!" he laughed heartily and flicked the man on the ear. "HAH. These young 'thugs'…bloody light weights if you ask me!" he laughed again, wiping some tears from his eyes and she joined in, her light bell-like laughter quickly drowned out by his booming laugh. "Anyway, take his clothes and you'll have a free pass into the camp!" he exclaimed excitedly, gripping his belt proudly. Feeling her jaw drop Robyn was quick to rebuke.

"Walter, no! That's completely disgusting and I won't do it!" she cried angrily. He lost his proud stance almost immediately, shock covering his features.

"What?! Why not!" he asked, as if the answer, no answers were not obvious.

"Because…because it will never work! For one, in case you haven't noticed, I'm female! There is no way they won't notice…certain…things!" She specified, her cheeks flaming.

"Things? Like what things? The tattoos and facial hair can be put on easily by a-OH. Those kind of things…" he trailed off unable to finish, his face turning a deep pink. "Well I'm sure…maybe some wrap of sort…ehem. Right, well I'll let you figure that out…just…try not to think of what those stains might be…"

"What will you be doing while I'm gone?" she snapped, the pink in her cheeks fading away.

"Me?" He questioned with a grin. "I will be convincing our library friend to send some supplies to the dweller people over a couple of drinks." With a curt nod he left, leaving Robyn alone with the foul smelling man.

"Alright, let's get this over with." She sighed, holding her breath as she stripped away the first article of clothing.

…

"I hope men really do look better than this…otherwise I'm going to be single a for a looong time." She snorted, eyeing the now almost-naked man in front of her. He was covered in scars and tattoos, and his choice of…underwear was revealing more than she ever wanted to see. She took a handkerchief from her pocket and with a piece of charcoal she found on the table, sketched out his tattoos and tucked it away. Eager to get rid of the smelly 'uniform', she clutched her necklace and after a moment was whisked away to the sanctuary. Jasper was not going to be pleased.

"GOOD HEAVENS WHAT IS THAT HORRIFIC STENCH!?"

"That, would be my new clothes." Robyn answered, her nose scrunched in disapproval. Jasper eyed the outfit, glaring that anything so disgusting was a part of her wardrobe.

"Ah yes, I see…and would you like me to wash them for you?" he asked, holding the clothing away from his prim uniform.

"No, actually I need it to smell bad otherwise it won't be convincing." She countered.

He frowned, and laid the clothes out so they could be put on one of the many mannequins that wrapped around the room. "And I suppose this was Sir Walter's idea?" he asked tiredly, his white gloves turning an off white gray wherever he touched the clothing.

"Yep, you guessed it." She replied walking back to the main room, resting against the map table in thought. Jasper followed, happy to get away from such repulsive attire.

"I suppose this is all part of some 'magnificent' plan of his?"

"Right again…do you see a stylist anywhere on here…?"

"Yes…there-"he pointed out a small shop near town square. "And am I allowed to hear this plan?" he asked halfheartedly.

"Hmmm. I don't want to scare you too much, but it involves tattoos." She winked and before he had a moment to question her she teleported back to Brightwall.

~O~

Kind of hated this chapter, was very boring…o well. Remember Review=cupcakes=bribe, and I might be convinced to update faster if I had some sugar in me ;) Hope your enjoying!

Edit: Lizabetta: Thanks for pointing that out! I did notice/mention it in my updated chapter :) I have fixed it and several other errors. ^^


	3. He's a lady, She's a man

Whoop, Jasper was sweating a little bit in that last chapter. Well here's Number 3! Hope you enjoy~

Oh, ps. Sorry about an earlier mistake, I put dwemer instead of dweller, again I am sorry; my mind was in Morrowind/Elder scrolls mode. ಠ_ಠ; –patheticvideogameaddiction-

~O~

The tattoo sketches in hand, Robyn hurried to the stylist, eager to get there before the shops closed. The shop bell announced her arrival, and she was greeted by the sweet smell of perfumes and oils. She walked to the counter, her heels making soft _pats _against the warm wood. A man leaned against the opposite side, head bowed, with a wig perched on his head that resembled a florescent pink, gelatinous dessert she would have expected to have after supper at the castle.

"Ahem." She coughed gently. The man let out an annoyed sighed and looked up, a painted eyebrow arched pointedly. He straightened himself into standing position, drumming his nails against the wooden counter.

"Let me guess, you want makeup, but not just any make-up, something dazzling! Something the even the highest members of the aristocracy would envy you for! Or perhaps something trendy…you want curls. Every bloody day I get the same customers, same demands!" He threw his arms up in frustration. "No one wants to be unique; everyone wants to look the same! Same blasted everything! Might as well make everyone in the bloody world look the same! Avo knows they would be happy!" he spat, his gelatinous wig shaking with every word. He rubbed his face, massaging his temples in frustration. "So which is it?" he groaned.

"Actually," she stated, a smile creeping onto her face. "I was thinking about something that said…mercenary." His eyes lit up at once, suddenly focused and alert. He leaned forward, his pencil thin mustache twitching in excitement. "I'll see what I can do."

~O~

Robyn stroked her goatee, grinning like a Cheshire cat. It had been two hours of painstakingly gluing hair trimmings onto her chin, painting on the tattoos, and wrapping her chest and stomach with long strips of cloth to hide her curves. Then it had only been the matter of whipping back to the sanctuary, (scaring an already frazzled Jasper to pieces) and carefully pulling on her clothes, pinning her wavy locks up under a holy hat.

I can't believe this…I look…wow." She laughed and the man beside her (whom she had discovered was named Lisa) giggled, his arms gripping her shoulders.

"You are a masterpiece! Never before have I created such a look…you are my new favorite customer! Discount always!" he chuckled excitedly. She smiled, gripping him in a tight hug.

"Thanks Liz, you've been good to me." He pushed her away, still gripping his shoulders and tears stinging his eyes.

"It was nothing, you have brought my dream back to life." He choked rubbing several tears from his eyes. She pulled her coin purse from her pocket and pushed it into his hands, and he quickly pushed it back.

"No, no, I do not want your money…! You have done enough for me, please keep the gold!" he insisted just before giving her a backbreaking hug. "Good luck my dear, erm sir!" he laughed, winking at her. She smiled, and as she waved goodbye her hand slid to the side of the counter, leaving the gold behind. She smiled once more, walking out into the cool night air. Knight yipped at her new appearance enthused. His head cocked to one side appraisingly before he barked in approval and began following her as she walked past the Brightwall Bridge.

~O~

A distant howl brought Connor back from his thoughts, and he watched as a dark Balverine emerged from the Mistpeak woods, a deer hanging loosely in its maw. It bowed respectfully, before moving on elsewhere to devour its kill. Connor did not often come so close to the borders of his territory, however he found that it had become a responsibility to make sure the balverines did not overindulge, doing so would throw the cycle off course and the lack of meat would cause humans to become the next main meal. Doing so would not bode well for the balverines, and as leader he understood this. So tonight he had decided to venture further out, where his command was not so dominate; to make sure the others were behaving themselves. They were, and he was pleased; so he took some time to relax and amble a bit about the lake. The moon was ripened and full, lighting his way; and with his excellent night vision he could have been walking in broad daylight. He walked full circle, until the land became but a jut in the water and he was directly across from a fort of some kind. He assumed they were mercenaries by the flags hanging over the edge, but he did not doubt that there were also thieves, assassins and cutthroats mixed in as well. The wind took that moment to make itself known, musing his dark locks about his head and pulling comforting smells of the forest and lake into his nose.

To his surprise a new smell was added to the concoction, something sweet and soft…a female. She was far away he could tell, and he was not a mindless beast that enjoyed killing people for the fun of it, however this smell stirred him, in a way he did not understand. There was a pull in his gut, the urge to investigate, and he frowned in anger at his lack of control over his instincts. He continued to sample the smell, indulging his desire in the tiniest way possible; and it grew stronger, closer until he became lightheaded and dizzy. He knew this smell; somehow, there was a familiarity about it he could not place, and it. Was. Driving. Him. Mad. Yes; he knew this smell that he was certain of, he could feel it in his bones, no in his very blood. He sucked in a breath and held it, memorizing the scent and committing it to memory. Should the desire rise up he would find the owner of the wonderful aroma, but for tonight he decided to stay away, and if he should happen to see her, he would not be able to deny himself the desire to at least watch her, if nothing else to make sure no harm came to her. But he would not go near her, not when she would most certainly be alone and so sweet-smelling, he did not know if he could control himself then.

He leaned back onto his elbows, enjoying himself and the sweet aromas mixing lazily about him. From across the lake he could see a man and a dog walking down the trail, and the sweet aroma suddenly was lost to him, the man's disgusting smells covering the sweet scent. Unconsciously he let out a gasp at the sudden change in smell and wrinkled his nose in disgust. Did mercenaries not understand the concept of bathing? He breathed through his mouth, in an effort to avoid the stench of alcohol, blood, and sweat mixed in with the ripe smell of rut. Having had enough, he stood, eager to get out of the downwind, and walked the entire perimeter of the lake, resting by a small wooded enclave. The odor gone, he took a deep breath, enjoying the smell of moist ground, pine trees, and to his surprise, dog. He raised an eyebrow, and looked about, the smell becoming stronger as a light wind once more picked up. He made out the shape of a border collie, her tongue, wait, his tongue hanging out of his mouth sluggishly; and he stepped away from his protective tree line, squatting and holding out his hand to the dog. The dog froze, having caught his unusual smell and eyed him from the darkness.

"Here boy." He beckoned, whistling to the dog. The collies head turned, cocking to the side before approaching gaily, his ears perked forward in curiosity. A few feet away from Connor the dog froze, his neck straining as he sniffed the man from the short distance. "It's alright boy-come here." He said, and the dog came and licked his hand merrily. Connor laughed aloud at the dog's joyful nature, rubbing the dog about his ears and back. The pup wriggled, rolling over as Connor proceeded to rub his belly. The dog shook itself, and Connor was momentarily frozen, as a feminine smell rose from the dog's thick fur. He unfroze, and groping about the dogs neck found a collar with the word _Knight_ inscribed into the leather, and a coin with a familiar insignia was imbedded next to it. Rubbing his thumb over the seal, he recognized it as a guild seal, something he knew as the White Balverine. With the power of leader granted to him, also came the knowledge of all the White Balverines before him, and he recognized the seal from the memories of one of the earliest. Suddenly a click registered in his mind, and he understood the pull he felt toward this dog's master. Balverines, Heroes, they both shared a bond, and though they had been enemies since the Balvorn, they shared the blood of the Old Kingdom, a deep and old power that ran through the veins of the strongest. He patted the dog's head, and plucking a stick from the ground, threw it easily through the air, the dog turning on a dime to chase its newfound prize.

"Well Knight… I think we should wait to see this master of yours, yes?"

~O~

Previously.

"I don't think you can come with me boy." Robyn said sadly, rubbing Knight behind the ear. He whimpered in response, his eyes growing large and watery. She laughed, and shaking her head at him, continued. "Don't try that whole puppy dog look with me…we both know it doesn't work." She giggled, and then growing serious explained. "I'm pretty sure 'Jimmy' wasn't the dog type...he would sooner kill one than keep it for a pet." She sighed. "If I'm going to get through I'm going to have to act the part." He whimpered pathetically, his body sagging with defeat. She pulled him into her, hugging him closely. "Love ya boy, be back soon. I promise." She stood and turned, heading in the direction of the camp, but stopped when she heard the quiet padding of Knight behind her. She turned frowning, giving him a pointed don't-you-dare-follow-me-or-no-treats-for-a-week look. He whimpered and dropped his head with grief. Looking up he trotted towards the tree-line, how many dreams had he had about entire forests full of un-peed on trees? Now looking at the tree line he felt dirty and sad, his master was off on her lonesome in a dangerous and-Knight froze, a…odd smell catching his nose. He could smell that same smell on his master, that Old Kingdom blood that rushed through the veins of heroes. But this was different, the smell was pleasant, human, but not…Knight remained puzzled, staring into the darkness of the trees were the smell was most prominent.

"Here boy." Knight cocked his ear his tongue hanging from his mouth as the figure emerged from the darkness, whistling much like his master did when she had a bone for him. He ran to the man, eager for human affection. After a moment of hesitation, and some reassurement from the human, he continued, happy to be with another like his master. He licked his hand happily, and the man said something Knight had difficulty understanding. Oh well, all would be well. Soon he would see his master, and she would be fine and give him a nice juicy bone for being such a good boy.

~O~

Robyn bit her tongue as she approached the main gate. She paused in front, and a man from the watch post peered over the edge, squinting and a bottle of liquor in his hand.

"Oi! Jimmy! That you? Back from killin' some dwellers eh? Come on in…" She nodded and continued in, sweat building up under the hat. Everyone here was armed to the teeth, and she only had her gauntlets, hidden under Jimmy's smelly gloves. (Both her and Jasper had agreed it would make little sense for Jimmy to leave unarmed and to come back with such clean, new looking weapons). Not to mention that everyone here appeared to be male, she had no doubt that if she was found out, there would be…nasty consequences. She focused on the act of walking, forcing herself not to grimace at the blood that seemed to be splashed along the trail. Suddenly voices pierced the air, and she froze, like a deer before it realized death was coming.

"Been up too much lately?"

"Nahhh…"

"Yeah, me neither…Sometimes I wished I'd joined me dad in the family business." She felt her hand twitch, and continued carefully, the mud squishing under her feet.

"Ohhh, why didn't yah?"

"Well I never saw me self as a sugar salesman…wasn't really feasible after I killed em' though." She winced, but continued walking trying to casually keep her head low.

"Ohhh…yeah" turning the corner she spotted them, leaning against a small barrier and rusty cannon. They turned, their faces looking bored and tired. There was a flash of confusion, as if their own mind was questioning what their eyes were busy perceiving; it vanished faster than she could register however, and they were looking at her excitedly, wide-eyed and cheerful. It was hard to believe that such a look could appear on the faces of murderers. "Oi! Jimmy! Over here mate! Don't be shy!" She was suddenly filled with panic, and she felt a flush of heat fill her body, and the urge to run filled her limbs. An idea popped into her head, one she had used many times on Logan to get out of attending events she had no interest in. She forced a fit of coughs to erupt from her chest, doubling over in pretend pain. They stopped their taunts and turned doe-like, their eyes wide.

"Hey-uh Jimmy-"she forced another spasm of coughs to push through her, forcing herself not to laugh at their gullibility. "Um…yeah. You know what Jimmy, maybe another time! You-uh…might wanna see a doc for that or something…just sayin'." She nodded, coughing once more for effect and continued down the trail, feeling confident. Mercenary flags marked the way every five feet and she vaguely wondered how if they were compensating for something. The trail opened up and cages lined the side, a wolf crouched in one, foam dripping from is teeth, two men stood in front, one jabbing it with the tip of his swords and the other stood behind him, cowardly taunting the poor beast.  
>"Come on you stupid mutt, roll over!" One of them growled.<p>

"Don't get too close to it…thing might have rabies or something!" the cowardly one announced, shaking in his boots.

"What we gonna call it?" one asked happily, throwing some raw meat through the bars which the wolf quickly snatched up.

"What about Gilbert? After that guy tha stiffed us on our last job." The other man took no notice, prodding the wolf eagerly.

"Does Wolfy like his cage?" he asked cheerfully.

"Wolfy?! I told you-GILBERT!" He exclaimed angrily.

"He just doesn't look like a Gilbert…"the other man sighed tossing some more meat through the bars. Both turned as she passed and waved, greeting her like family.

"Hey Jimmy!" she nodded, and continued walking, blisters forming on her feet from the abrasive cloth of the shoes.

"How much further is this camp?" she whispered, pushing several tendrils of hair back into her hat. As she rounded the corner, a gate came into sight and a guard waited in front, scuffing his shoe in the dirt. He looked up at her approach, and smiled knowingly.

"Hey Jim…How things goin'? He sniffed. "You been drinking in Brightwall again?" he joked laughingly. "Now don't let anyone tell you drinking alone is wrong, had some of the best times I have…" he laughed, the gate cranking open from the other side. "All right, I'll see you later Jimm, go on through." She nodded sheepishly, and did her best to look drunk as she passed. The gate slammed shut behind her and splashed muddy water across her back. She groaned as the cold water soaked through the worn leather, freezing the warm skin of her back and causing her muscles to tense. Thunder cracked from above, and a light downpour came down, causing the wet ground to form puddles of thick, gloppy water. Men were everywhere, some carrying heavy crates and others practicing their melee skills on each other in a small make-shift arena. At least the rain would cover up the smell that she had no doubt would otherwise be clouding up the air. She trudged through the camp, eyeing the next gate. Surely Saker would be in the middle of the camp, yes? She let her head hang, the rain washing sweat down her face into her eyes. Suddenly, quite out of nowhere, two arms gripped her shoulders and pulled her against a body.

"Jimmy? Is that you?" a woman said excitedly, Robyn looked up in shock, and quickly adverted her eyes, hoping the red that was attacking her cheeks was not visible in the heavy rain. The woman holding her captive wore little to cover herself, a one piece corset and the back of a lacy skirt, both soaked with the heavy rain. Her curly white wig weighed heavy with the downpour, and her makeup was running horribly down her cheeks, a mix of black, blue, and red turning into an ugly brown as it dripped onto her chest. She pressed herself against Robyn and her ears burned with embarrassment and disgust. "Just though I'd let you know…last night was amazing." She emphasized, trailing a pink fingernail down her chest. Robyn jerked from her grip, doing her best to grin at her and practically ran for the gate. She'd rather be ripped apart by Saker than be alone with that…woman. She made it to the checkpoint with few other interruptions, and the two men stopped their argument to peer back at her.

"Oi…Jimmy that really you? You look…different somehow…were your eyes always blue?" the other man turned, his eyes happy until he looked at Robyn. He leaned in closer, and Robyn could smell the bitterness of his breath.

"Nahhhh…Jimmy's got periwinkle eyes…like a beautiful summer morning sky!" the man sighed, his eyes glazing over in as he gazed happily into a distant memory. Robyn raised an eyebrow and both she and the other man remained silent, staring at the man in confusion. He seemed to snap from his thought and turned to both of him, his eyes darting between both of their faces. He gestured to Robyn defensively, his face aghast. "This ain't em'!"

_Avo hates me._

Both men fell in a flume of fire, and screams and war cries burst out throughout the camp men running towards her with blades drawn and guns pointed.

_I hate my life._

She spun in a tornado of fire, burning the men and catching the wood of their guns ablaze. Most fell, injured or dead, and some ran.

"OPEN THE GATE! WE NEED REINFORCEMENTS!" Plucking a sword from one of the fallen she spun gracefully, decapitating the first man through and slicing the next across his chest. Everywhere she turned more mercenaries came and she disposed of them, the cold rain felt good against her heated skin. She worked her way through the camp, silencing her enemies one by one. Adrenaline pumped through her veins and she raised a taken pistol and fired upon a barrel of gunpowder, causing it to explode and send men flying in every which way. She was surprised to find that fighting was indeed harder without Knight, normally he was there to pick of the ones who had fallen but without him some of them would pop back up and take her by surprise, and she suffered for it. By the time she reached the center of the camp her clothes were soaked with a concoction of sweat, rain, and blood. She had scavenged both a blade and gun from several fallen men by now, and she held a knotty pistol at the ready. She walked up the incline cautiously, it had been several minutes since she had been attacked and it worried her. A great pine arena rested at the top of the incline, the gate lazily hanging open.

"Well there's no way this can be a trap." She muttered, her boots sticking in the mud as she climbed the hill and entered the arena, and was unsurprised when the entrance snapped shut behind her. "Didn't see that coming…" she growled as men appeared across the wall, leaning over the parapet to get a look at her. Along the sides were large bags of gunpowder, and timber frames were built alone the side of the wall. A large, burly man appeared above the parapet in front of her, a cigar resting between two sausage link fingers. Several men drew their guns and she readied herself, she wouldn't be going down without a fight.

"**Leave her! She's mine.** You've left quite a trail of bodies." He acknowledged. "You're not one of Sabine's dwellers that's for damn sure, _but you'll die like one." _He spat at her, leaping from the wall and landing in front several yards from her, burning the cigar until it was only a tiny little wedge sticking from his teeth. He plucked it from his mouth and crushed it under his foot, taking large strides before placing another in his teeth. She backed away several steps, taking in his massive size. Now that he was closer she could see a nasty scar that went across his eye, the eye itself was milky and white. She pulled her steel from its sheath and readied herself, holding her sword out like Walter had taught her. Like her father had taught her. He laughed, a deep mocking laugh that caused the surrounding men to burst in laughter as well, and she continued to hold up her sword, her arm dead weight with the water-heavy leather, thankful that the rain had lightened up greatly within the last hour or so. She would have to find a lighter blade when this was over with.

"You think you're going to do any damage with that piece of scrap?" he taunted, smiling so she could see his teeth clamped shut around the cigar. She frowned, but remained focused and they began circling each other like wolves. His hands went up to his cigar, lighting it while blocking part of his face from view. She waited and he glanced down at her, his eyes grinning. Suddenly, without warning he threw something he had hidden in his hands, a small bomb like creation he had lit along with his cigar. She managed to withhold a scream and dodged it, rolling across the ground and successfully covering her back with mud. She came up with a ball of fire at the ready, throwing it at him with as much speed and force as she could muster. He simply turned to it, letting it catch his side rather than his face. He grinned amusedly, one hand coming up and swiping away a small flame that had started on his vest. With a growl, he lit two more bombs in his hands and threw them, and she dodged, coming in close to put in a few good slices with her blade. He shook them off easily, but the cuts were deep and would be painful as the battle went on. The mercenaries noticed this and growled, leaping from the wall, and landing on all fours, blades drawn and guns whipping out everywhere she looked.

_This is going to be harder than I thought…_

She danced about the arena, slicing and cutting through everything in her path. She had always been a bit short, only reaching Walters shoulder even when she wore heels. However her petite form had benefits most people took for granted, and years of secretive training with her father and after his death Walter, had toned her muscles so she could use her small size to her advantage. She bent under a swinging blade, and whipped out her pistol and shot the man sessionally three times, and he fell. She screamed as fire met her back, and turned to see Saker and more men closing in on her. The fight seemed to go on for hours, and her hero blood began to fail her, her injuries healing more and more slowly, her muscles becoming weaker and her blade slower. She switched to the pistol and found that to be easier, taking out several men at a time with a few well-placed bullets.

_Too many…_she thought. _If only I could…if I knew what to do…_

It was a moment of pure desperation, her hero blood making one last hope for success, and a blast of will poured from her, raw and untamed. Time was slowing around her and the men moving slowly, as if they were stuck in a pool molasses. She swung easily, swiping each man across the chest, and they fell in slow motion, cries of pain erupting from their horrified expressions. She ran to Saker and he moved to defend himself, but she was faster. She delivered each blow with unnerving accuracy, not enough to kill, but enough to disable him. He collapsed, and time sped back up, the spikes of his iron knee pads digging into the ground.

"Stop, You've won…this battle is yours. Kill me or let me live, it's your choice…and my men will honor it." He whispered. "We may be nothing but mercenaries, but we have our codes. _Just like any other soldiers…" _he mumbled the last part, and she swore she heard remorse seeping into his voice. "We'll leave the dwellers be…no matter what you choose, that is a warrior's promise!" he growled, his voice raspy with pain. She held a poker face, and what mercenaries left surrounded them, their faces pale and worried for their leader. She drew her blade, and held it out behind her, cocking her head to the side. Saker looked up, wide-eyed and pale. A mumble rose through the crowd but silenced quickly, waiting in silent anxiousness for her choice. She took her hand and slapped him across the face, knocking the cigar from his mouth, and with a graceful sweep cut the nasty habit in half. It settled on the ground in front of her, and she sheathed her blade, one hand grabbing Saker's, and (with more effort than it appeared) she managed to pull him to his feet.

"You shouldn't smoke, it's unhealthy." She teased. And he laughed boisterously. He picked up the cigar anyway and winked, sticking the tiny, frayed thing in his mouth. He picked her up, in a (literally) backbreaking hug. She gasped, and her feet dangling two-to-three feet above the ground.

"Thank you, I won't forget this." He said into her back, and he dropped her, and the mercenaries around laughed, smacking each other on the back and throwing their hats into the air. "Let our new friend go, lads!" he laughed, holding his arms up. The nodded and shouted in agreement and just as quickly were silent. Everyone had seemingly frozen where they stood. Robyn felt a familiar tug on her insides, and groaned as she braced herself for the horrible teleportation sickness of Theresa's "invitation."

~O~

Theresa remained quiet as Robyn emptied her stomach, chuckling softly. Feeling embarrassed, and ignoring the foul taste in her mouth she stood, and a wave of nausea hit her.

"_Do not worry, you will get used to the feeling of trans-dimensional teleportation in time." _She stated cheerfully, a poetic smile creasing her lipsbefore she continued into another escapade. "_Sparing Saker has won over the support of his followers; word is already spreading of your compassion and your strength." _As if to add to her words, a figure took shape from the fog, solidifying into Saker, a cigar hanging from his lips.

She smiled, and then something came back to mind. "Theresa, in the arena…while I was fighting I-" She turned to look at Theresa, and was surprised to see that she was gone. Much to her chagrin, an invisible hand grabbed her intestines, yanking her away from the eerie island.

_I hate that woman sometimes…_

_Little Sparrow said the same thing when he was your age._

…

Robyn managed to make it out of eye-view before losing her dinner for the second time that evening, even managing to disgust herself. As she left the camp, she inspected herself. The tattoos had washed off in the rain, but the beard was oddly still firmly in place. She pressed her hat onto her head, and searched the darkness for her companion.

"Knight?" "Knight! Come 'ere boy!" she called, squinting into the dark for him. He came after a few moments, his tongue hanging out in excitement. He nearly knocked her over and she laughed, rubbing his back and head. He was mostly dry; no doubt he'd stayed under the trees during the shower. He turned, and running halfway towards the tree line, stopped, barking and looking back at her. She walked to him, curious at this new behavior. "What is it boy?" she asked softly, peering into the dark but unable make out anything save shadows and shrubbery. Knight cocked his head watching the dark before he gave up, looking up at her expectantly. She raised an eyebrow, but did not question it further, and gently touching her hidden necklace, and gripping Knights collar she teleported to the Sanctuary for a much needed bath.

~O~

After almost three hours of waiting, a man emerged from the camp, the smell of blood, sweat and…bile coming from his clothes. Connor wrinkled his nose, still stroking the dogs back, however upon catching the smell the dog stood excitedly, his tail whipping back and forth.

"Knight? Come here boy!" the man called, and Connors eyes almost popped out of his head. The voice was most defiantly female, and yet… he frowned and gave the dog a hug about his neck before he took off, running all the way to the man-woman. Connor stood and wiped the dirt from his clothes, and to his surprise the dog began to lead his master back to him. He stepped back into the safety of the trees, the man peering into the darkness. A hat covered the face, and Connor frowned annoyed. Knight's master had most defiantly been female, but where had she gone? And who was this man?

~O~

One of my longer chapters eh? I don't think it turned out to bad, of course you readers could always let me know what you think~ through a review~ right there~ to the bottom left~ yeah~ x) Thanks as always for Reading, have a lovely day.

Oh, and for any mistakes, I am sorry; I wrote this up over an hour and read over it twice before updating.


	4. Boy Troubles

Choop~ Check it out! Chapter 4 right here! I apologize for the "romance/creeper romance" in here, I really can't write that kind of stuff well, so if it's intolerable feel free to just skip that bit.

Hope you enjoy!

Signed Chesty, Your friendly Chest.

~O~

Connor frowned, licking his lips in deep thought.

:: I see…and this whelp…is in Brightwall?::

He did not voice his thought, there was no need. The balverine before him released a guttural growl in confirmation, and Connors frown deepened. A mutt, a young, reckless, man-**no monster**-had been running a-muck in Brightwall. Women were being found defiled and ripped to pieces, and no one suspected this young "gentleman" responsible. However Brightwall was a not a large town, and sooner or later people would begin to realize the marks were not made by a blade but by claws. Bile rose in Connors throat, and he nodded dismissively, pulling himself from the cold stone of his makeshift throne.

"To Brightwall Then" he growled, a white blur leaping from his place and disappearing into the trees above.

~O~

"I delivered your letter to Miss Olga!" Robyn sing-sang, the shops bell announcing her arrival. The pawn shop owner visibly jumped, the odd magnifier that hung onto his hat swinging dangerously.

"You d-did!" It was more of a statement than a question, and the shopkeeper fumbled with his hands, his spine curving him over out of nervousness.

"Mhhhhmmm." Robyn chirped, leaning against the front counter smiling. Sweat appeared on the man's brow and his eyes went wide.

"A-and what d-did she s-say?" He questioned, his voice shaking with anxiety. Robyn smiled softly, and plucked a letter from her font pocket.

"She told me to give you this." She smiled bemusedly. The shopkeeper snatched the letter from her fingers and clutched it in shaking hands. The magnifier slipped down in front of his eyes, making them appear five times larger than was considered normal. His fingers anxiously slipped into the envelope, breaking the wax seal and unleashing a plume of lavender. Robyn raised an eyebrow. Perfume. Nice touch. The man's eyes grew even larger behind the lenses, and a smile spread across his normally edgy face.

"T-this is good news indeed my friend!" He smiled widely, and his whole body seemed to relax, as if he had just settled into a warm bath. "Thank you! Thank you! You have changed my life for the better…Please, if there is anything you need, anything at all let me know-Oh and you are always entitled to first pick on my wares, discount included!" Charlie chuckled uncharacteristically and kissed the paper heartily, his cheeks a healthy pink. Robyn stifled a giggle and exited the shop, pulling her hands behind her as she walked through the hustle and bustle of Brightwall square, Knight remaining unseen. (No doubt he was running around somewhere). Due to the inflexibility of her gauntlets, she had begun to only wear them when in the wilderness or on a quest, so she was pleased to be able to feel the skin of her hands instead of stiff leather. She was fairly comfortable as she bartered with the shop keepers for the best deal; she had selected a more practical outfit for today, one of the fashions she enjoyed the most during her princess-hood. Jasper had been quite enthused to see her trade in her Highwaywomen clothes for a more…accepted attire. She smiled to herself, whistling contentedly while she munched on an apple she had bought for two gold. It wasn't long though before her stomach was rumbling and a snack wouldn't quite curb her appetite. Carrying her basket she bobbed through the crowd, people pushing and shoving to get to their destination. Since she had been announced Hero of Brightwall, Walter had encouraged her to get to know the townsfolk more, and to attempt to gain some friends. It was pleasant enough, and she made some money from several of the lesser homes she now owned, something that no doubt would help her later on. She paused, hunger forgotten, examining several books that sat idly upon a wooden stall.

"See anything you like?" she jumped at the noise, and looking up she expected to see an elderly stall clerk but instead was meet by a pair of vivid amber eyes, the color of fresh sweet syrup. She blinked several times, her mind clouding, and smiled.

"Yes actually-erm…" She paused to blindly glance at the title of the book in her hands. "The White One…how much does that cost?" she asked softly. He smiled, absentmindedly sweeping back his caramel colored hair behind his ear plucking the tome from her hands.

"Well…normally a book of this kind would cost around 300 gold…but I think I would be willing to offer a trade." He smiled crookedly, and it only added to his overall appearance. She did her best to smile attractively, feeling dazed.

"And what kind of deal would that be?" she asked, her heart beating wildly in her chest. He grinned wider, and leaned away, his back straight as he held the package aloft to her. She reached out, and his fingers lingered against hers, pulling her close.

"A date with a beautiful lady." He purred bemusedly, a kind smile stretching across his face. She flushed, and without thinking answered.

"Sounds wonderful." He smiled cheerfully, releasing the book into her possession.

"I'll meet you by the bridge tonight; we can go for a walk through Mistpeak." He leaned in and brushed his lips against her cheek, making her heart skip several beats. Stunned, she walked away, package in hand, and a girlish grin plastered to her face. She froze, realization hitting her.

"Wait, I didn't catch your name-!" She cried, turning back to the stall. Much to her chagrin, it was empty, a "Sorry, we're closed" sign dangling from the front counter. She frowned, turning her attention to a tag that was tied about the books wrapping.

_Marcus._ Smiling she called for Knight, setting off to prepare for her upcoming date.

~O~

After what felt like hours of Jasper fussing over the state of her nails and sitting in a wash tub filled with bubbles and scented oils, (then a quick stop by Lisa's to see if he approved of her appearance) she was on her way to the bridge, not wanting to teleport and risk losing her lunch in front of Marcus. Knight had stayed behind in the sanctuary, and she longed for his company. Since it was their first date she stayed casual, wearing practical shoes for the long walk and her clothes (much to Jasper's despair) from earlier. She worked on calming her breathing, and pushed her wavy locks out of her face for the umpteenth time. Her hair hung loose and natural, framing her alabaster face and making her pale blue eyes stand out. She reached the bridge, and seeing no one in sight, leaned against the edge, enjoying the view. The full moon was out, and the night was cloudless.

"You're early." She jumped for the second time, his voice surprising her as he slipped from the shadows.

"So are you." She enthused, her cheeks turning a smart pink. He was dressed nicely; his soft locks combed and swept back and a fitting tunic fit snuggly over his muscled chest. He came close, bowing slightly and brushing his lips against her knuckles. Did his teeth look _sharper_? No, it must be her imagination.

"You look beautiful." He purred, gently tucking her arm into his. Flushed, she looked down accepting his compliment.

"You…look nice too." She muttered softly, the muffled sounds of their feet the only noise she could hear. He chuckled, and she could feel his gaze on her, not warm and kind like earlier, but heated and hungry. It made her feel uncomfortable. She coughed eager to change the subject.

"So how long have you lived in Brightwall?" she asked, relieved to feel his scrutiny leave her and return to the path ahead. She turned her gaze to him, surprised to see a venomous smile turning up the corners of his face.

"Not for long…not long enough really." He muttered his pace quickening as they passed the stone marker that marked the end of Brightwall's border.

_You are now entering Mistpeak. Have a nice day._

His grip had become firm now, firmer than she liked and her insides began to squirm. He looked at her, his amber eyes boring into hers, a feral look overcoming his once handsome face. _How could she have thought him attractive? _His hand tightened around her wrist, bruising the tender skin. _Were his fingernails longer?_

"You really do look delicious…" one of his hands strayed up to graze his nail down her cheek, leaving a thin trail of blood. "…So soft and fragile…" He smiled, showing all his teeth, and she whimpered inaudibly. Without warning he shoved her away, pinning her to a tree and began hungrily kissing up her neck. She gasped, trying to shove him away, but his nails were biting into the tree, tethering him, and her, against it. She whimpered, feeling tears well up in her eyes as she struggled to free herself of him. "Mhhmmm…delicious…" he growled, his fingers knotting in her hair.

"Get off!" she cried, bringing up her knee and hitting him where it counts. He groaned, releasing her and falling back. She sprinted away, her hero blood pounding in her veins, as he roared behind her. She looked back in time to see him, half man, and half balverine. She panicked, she had not brought any weapons with her, and she was not wearing her gauntlets. Finished with his transformation, a ruddy brown balverine looked up at her, thick drool sliding from its many layers of teeth. It hurdled itself at her, claws unsheathed and its mouth open in an inaudible roar, she let out a scream, praying to Avo for her death to be quick, when a white blur streaked in front of her, and a guttural moan signaling something had happened. Opening her eyes, which she had not realized were clenched shut, a man shoved the Marcus balverine off him, a bloody dagger imbedded in his hand. He turned to her, one hand pushing back his messy black hair as he leaned down, his hand gently checking the pulse on her wrist. She stared, her mouth remaining in an "O" as he checked her over for injury, until finally he looked up at her, an eyebrow posed questionably.

"You're going to catch a lot of flies that way." He chuckled kindly, gently patting her shoulder. She shut her mouth pointedly, a million questions rushing through her mind. He stood, gently tugging her to her feet before turning to retrieve the blade.

"Who are you?" he paused, surprised. He struggled for several moments, unsure whether he should state the truth or tell her a lie. He recognized her, that soft alluring scent. No wonder the mutt had chosen her for his next meal. He resisted his urges, and cleared his mind, breathing through his mouth so as to avoid the aroma and temptation.

"My name is Connor…I've been tracking this man for some time, trying to catch him in the act…" _Not entirely a lie._ He thought.

She mused over this for a moment, before meeting his eyes. _Why did she have to have such lovely eyes…?_

"Well, thanks. You saved my life." She murmured, reaching into her pocket and retrieving a coin purse. He waved it away, flattered.

"Keep it. It is enough that this villain has been dealt with, you should return to your home. I will see to it that this body is taken care of." He stated, tucking the dagger into his jacket. She nodded, looking at him once more before making her way back to town.

He followed, from a distance, until she reached her room at the tavern, and climbed into a bed near a large, sleeping man. _It was make sure she made it home safely_, he told himself. But deep down he knew that wasn't true.

~O~

Tch tch tch. Very short chapter :/ My shortest yet! Reviews are appreciated! (Who doesn't want to know how their doing?) :D As always thank you for reading! ^^ Oh, and p.s. if you see any mistakes let me know please! Thank you :3


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